SMELLS LIKE BULLSHIT

First let me say that this probably isn’t really a riot, because we didn’t burn any cars, or break any store windows and loot the place but there was a standoff between black guys and white guys for about an hour.

It all started out with a bottle of Jack Daniels, as did most of the stories based in my two years at this particular college. I was up to 3 fifths of Jack a week and a minimum of 2 cases of beer on the weekend. Needless to say that wasn’t the best combination for academic success, but hey it worked for me!

The night started out just fine like most nights and I was drinking with some of the other football players, they had beers I was taking pulls straight out of the bottle, all was well. Naturally when you get a room full of overly testosterone laden young men that spend their free time playing a game that centers on physical violence, things can sometimes get aggressive.

Now as a team, it is a pretty well known unwritten rule that you NEVER fight amongst yourselves, and when you are part of a community that the local population of 20 something’s like to accommodate you with as many, and sometimes more, fisticuffs then you want or need, you really don’t have to wander far to find your pugilistic needs. So as we continued to drink, I started getting antsy. I was dealing with a lot typical young man stress, stuff like “when am I getting laid next”, and “What the hell was the yellow stuff we had to eat tonight”, some real concerns for the youth of America. So I mentioned that I thought it would be a lot of fun if we went up town and looked for some townies “to kick the living shit out of”.

Well the 5 guys I was drinking with didn’t seem to think this was a good idea, some had tests the next day, one guy was on probation for assault, and various other “no’s”, left me in a quandary. Then someone showed me the light at the end of the tunnel, “Why don’t you go talk to “B” dorm I heard they were looking for a scrap too”! SUCCESS! B-Dorm was where my bruthas resided! The men of color! The compatriots, guys I play football, dominoes, and chase skirt with! YES I would be able to get my fight on and have a fun time with my friends of color! My Ninjas! So I stumble across the parking lot to B-dorm.

As I enter the dorm I hear10-12 of these guys partying in one of the rooms! “Cool I don’t have to look more than one place they are all right here!”

So I walk into the doorway of this dorm room and yell a big “HOWDY!”

All of them slowly turn and look at me like I just whipped out my dick and waved it at them.

So I continue “I hear ya’ll are looking for a fight”

Now, none of these guys knew about my previous conversation with the boys in my dorm, so they had no idea that we were all on the same page and, I guess, in hindsight that probably could have been stated differently.

The smallest guy in the room stood up, Emerick W. He was a defensive corner/safety, and was about 5’5” 135lbs soaking wet with every pocket full of sand. Now even back then I was still a big assed offensive lineman, although I wasn’t the current size of “big” I was still a big sumbitch at 6’2”260lbs. Emerick stands up and gets in my face and says “yeah muthafucker, and you got a lot of fucking nerve coming in here and asking for it!”

I didn’t know what to do, this wasn’t the right response, and my booze addled mind couldn’t figure out why it was wrong, just that it was, and I had no time for this shit, I was looking to go uptown and fight someone.

I’m not sure what exactly was said next all I know is Emerick either said something to me, about me, pushed me, slugged me…I don’t know what, but I do remember what I did next which was to push Emerick hard enough to send him flying about 4 feet straight up over his bed and with enough force to bang his skull on the big plastic light that is installed over all of the dorm beds at about 7 feet off the ground. I told you he wasn’t very big.

Well the other 9 guys thought that this display was completely uncalled for and turned on me like a pack of angry thugs…which they were, but I was still drunk, dazed and confused. Not confused enough to not fight back or see the entire dorm complex, (about 100 people) clearing out and people squaring off. It all gets real hazy during this period of melees and I’m only positive of one thing, punches were thrown names were called and 50 football players were in the parking lot wondering what the fuck was going on.

I was being held by three other big motherfuckers, and my friend Dave W. was standing in front of me asking me…nay, telling me to calm the fuck down and stop fighting. Naturally I continue to struggle enough that he steps closer to yell in my face, and slap me, whereas I promptly head butt him, breaking his nose. The two guys holding me are shocked, and loosen their grip, as I am breaking free Dave has regained his composure, and has slugged me hard enough to snap me out of my rage, and leave a nasty bruise.

As I look up there are other tiny skirmishes being played out all over the parking lot, none that I feel responsible for, but I can’t help thinking that whereas I didn’t get what I wanted I did get what I asked for.

Thanks Mick Jagger for that, oh so helpful rationalization.

The next morning I was glared at, stared at, ignored, and whispered to. The entire team was wondering what the hell happened and knew somehow I was the catalyst. So I let it cook for a day, sobered up, and when I was back to me, I caught up with Emerick and made my explanation. Once he heard that he laughed and called me a bad name but this time with a smile and all was right with the world.

So not really a riot, more of a potential “Westside Story” moment, only there was no dancing, switchblades or chicks. Go figure.

Oh and Dave had a split lip, busted nose, a concussion and pissy attitude for almost a week, can’t say that blame him though, blind, drunken rage is bad motherfucker.